Heard It Through The Grapevine
by possiblycrazee
Summary: Sheldon Hawkes has a secret. When Don is caught in the explosion, will his secret help him or hinder him?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Heard It Through The Grapevine

Author: Hawkeye/Katy

Fandom: CSI:NY

Rating: FRT

The alarm clock radio flared into life next to Sheldon's head. But the dark-skinned doctor was already awake and dressed, calmly sitting Indian-style and barefoot on his newly-made bed. He'd been woken up an hour earlier by another alarm. Another clock radio, on the other side of his bed, one that beeped instead of playing music. He had calmly gone about his morning routine for the next fifty-five minutes, before making his way over to his second clock radio. That's where 6.59am that fateful Sunday morning found him. Cross-legged on his bed, staring intently at the digital numbers, waiting for them to tick over to 7.00.

No-one at the lab knew about Sheldon's gift. Sheldon grimaced, eyes never leaving the clock radio. If you could really call it a gift. Damn thing was more temperamental than his first car and about as useful as safety scissors in surgery. But, it was something he could do that no-one else could. He was a psychic… kinda… not really… maybe…

Sheldon could hear things. In music. Things that others couldn't. Where others heard beats, rhythms and melodies, Sheldon heard voices, conversations and sounds. He'd ignored it at first, dismissing it as the people in the next apartment or his imagination. As time went by, Sheldon often began to get a strange feeling of déjà vu when he talked to people, as though he'd heard their responses before. Once he'd convinced himself that he wasn't going mad, Sheldon had begun to see patterns. Not just the voices and sounds within the music itself, but feelings, senses, interwoven with the lyrics and melody. This was why Sheldon was watching a clock radio at 7am on a Sunday morning. As a haunting piano melody crept out of the clock radio, Sheldon closed his eyes.

'Darling, I hope

That my dream never haunted you,

My heart is telling you,

How much I wanted you,

Gloomy Sunday…'

Snatches of conversation and background noise floated through the lilting tones coming from the clock radio's pathetic speakers. Sheldon eased his head closer to the radio, as though being closer to the music would help him hear the voices better.

"And that folks, was 'Gloomy Sunday' by the legendary Billie Holiday, Lady Day herself, next up we'll keep in the jazz vibe with a little somethin' from…"

Sheldon frowned and switched off the radio, not bothering to wait and see what the next song was. Well, that was beyond useless. Just Mac and Don complaining about working on Sundays. A wry smile quirked the doctor-turned-CSI's lips. Even though he never complained about an opportunity to listen to Don's voice, when it wasn't inherently useful, it was simply a waste of his time and a waste of his dubious gift. Sheldon's frown grew deeper and a shiver ran through him. Although… there was something… Sheldon shook himself and uncurled his legs, reaching for his shoes and pulling them on. The feeling of unease stayed with him as Sheldon grabbed his wallet, cell phone and keys, heading for the door. He paused, taking two steps backwards to glance into his room again, looking at the clock radio once more. Shaking his head yet again, he dismissed it and left for work.

The uneasiness stayed with him, even as he was driving. Sheldon's eyes flicked down to the car stereo. He really shouldn't. That was being paranoid. It probably wouldn't work anyway. This was such a bad idea. But still he sighed, reluctantly reaching his hand out and flipping the stereo on, turning his eyes back to the road as music filtered out around his ears.

'Slow burn watching the world turn from my arms  
New way of measuring each day until it's gone,

Sunrise building a reprise in my heart  
Regret tight around my chest plays its part,'

Sheldon slowed to a stop as the lights in front of him changed to red. Snatches of conversation and noise wove their way around him, almost drowning out the traffic noise. Only half paying attention to his surroundings, Sheldon shifted his focus onto what the music had begun to tell him.

'Mac? Mac, are you okay?'

'I'm fine, Danny. Don's injured…'

'Don't worry… we're gonna get you outta there…'

An angry horn blared behind him and Sheldon jumped as he realized he'd been sitting at the lights for too long, that they'd been green for a while now. With a curse, he raised a hand in apology to the driver behind him and pulled away. Gritting his teeth at the cheery chirping of an ad for acne cream, Sheldon snaked his hand down and flicked the radio off again. Eyes still wide, he maneuvered his car through the New York traffic to the lab. He'd been right. That was a bad idea…

Sheldon was still numb as he walked rapidly from his spot in the parking lot up into the lab. He nodded at Stella and Detective Scagnetti on his way through, his step never faltering as he headed for Mac's office, determined to stop this before it started, whether he exposed his gift or not. Sheldon didn't know how he knew, but Don's safety depended on it, Don's life depended on Mac making that one phone call to bring him back to the lab. He turned the corner, raising his hand to knock on the glass doors of his boss' office and froze. It was empty.

Snippets of what he had heard floated back to him. 'Mac, are you okay?' 'I'm fine, Danny. Don's injured…' He was too late. Sheldon lowered his hand slowly, color draining from his face. He shook himself lightly, berating himself. He didn't even know what he was too late for. First rule of CSI training. Gather your evidence. Knowing he had no paperwork, and knowing that Stella and Scagnetti would've stopped him if there was a new case, Sheldon made his way down to the locker room. He switched the radio in the shower-room on and sat cross-legged on the floor of a stall, not caring that the floor was still a little damp.

'Me and all my friends,  
We're all misunderstood,  
They say we stand for nothing and  
There's no way we ever could.

Now we see everything that's going wrong  
With the world and those who lead it,  
We just feel like we don't have the means  
To rise above and beat it,'

The uneasy feeling Sheldon had felt in his home and car this morning, the one that had shifted into a knot of tension between his shoulders when he entered the lab, suddenly turned into a ball of ice that settled right over his heart. He didn't need to lean closer to the radio to hear what the music was trying to tell him this time. He could hear every word, every sound.

'Stay with me, Don! Stay with me!'

Sheldon's eyes grew wide; a low whimper escaping him, as the upbeat song folded Don's gasping attempts at breathing around his ears. He knew it hadn't happened yet and he knew he shouldn't be panicking, but… it was Don…

'No! You stay with me, Don!'

It was Mac asking… no… begging… Don not to die… Sheldon lunged for the radio, shutting it off with more force than was necessary. To hell with evidence! He had to go now!

Sheldon jogged out of the locker rooms heading for the parking lot. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and swore. He had no idea where either Mac or Don were. He jogged back into the lab, all his energy focused inwards, focused intently on getting to Don. He slid into the AV sector and scooped up a laptop, quickly opening the GPS tracking program. He'd entered the first three digits of Don's number when Danny skidded into the room, almost frightening him out of his skin.

"Damn it, Messer!" he yelped, visibly shaken.

"Sorry Doc," Danny replied tersely, looking as shaken as he felt, "But we need you, now…"

"What? What happened?" Sheldon took one look at Danny's face and knew.

"Bomb. Blew up an office building. Mac an' Don were inside…"

Time seemed to slow for Sheldon. He was too late. He moved on auto-pilot, shutting down the computer and getting to his feet, moving quickly to keep up with Danny's frantic steps. They stopped off in the locker room Sheldon had not long vacated, Danny flinging open his locker to grab his CSI kit before hurrying out. Sheldon flung open his own locker, but paused for a moment, eyeing off the two kits he kept in there. His newer, shinier CSI kit, and his older, more battered med-kit from when he'd been an EMT. Making up his mind, Sheldon grabbed a kit in each hand. Danny looked back over his shoulder, wondering what had made Sheldon stop. He winced as he saw the battered EMT med-kit and the haunted-yet-determined look on Sheldon's face.

It took them four hours to pull Don and Mac out of the wreckage. Mac came first, limping and clutching a strip of his bloodied shirt to his neck. Sheldon moved automatically, the CSI becoming the EMT. He stripped himself of the gloves he'd been using to collect evidence, pulling on a fresh pair and grabbing a gauze pad. He stepped up to Mac, pulling the shirt away from his neck and replacing it with the clean gauze, murmuring apologetically as Mac hissed in pain. He helped the injured man over to the paramedics and walked back to his post stripping off his bloody gloves and replacing them yet again with clean ones.

Then they brought out Don. It was all Sheldon could do, even with his years of EMT experience, not to throw up. Danny did, the blonde man's eyes widening and nostrils flaring as he spun around and dropped to his knees at the sight of the gaping wound in Don's chest. The paramedics swarmed round him, a rookie turning to glance askance at Sheldon. The EMT-turned-CSI raised his hands and stepped back, this was their turf now.

A lone stereo left over from the unofficial Sunday block party played mournfully, its sound almost drowned out by the wailing of sirens, crying of wounded people and harsh yells of law enforcement. About to step back and join the ranks of his fellow CSIs, Sheldon's sharp ears caught the sound of the music. Unwillingly, he let the music flow over him, trying to pick out something, anything, which could help him somehow.

'God, I feel like hell tonight  
Tears of rage I cannot fight  
I'd be the last to help you understand  
Are you strong enough to be my man?'

Almost frantically, Sheldon let his mind search through the words, the melody, the rhythm. He floated his mind through every layer of the song, searching for the elusive sound of the voices, conversations or noises that he so often heard. There was nothing. It was just another song. Just a random song coming from someone's abandoned stereo. Sheldon stared around the crime scene, fresh horror on his face. Now he didn't even have that to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Heard It Through The Grapevine

Author: Hawkeye/Katy

Beta: Alex/Odysseus and Onigami/Lorne

Fandom: CSI:NY

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the socks I'm wearing. I stole those from my sister.

Sheldon stared at the computer screen in front of him, knowing it contained data relevant to the case, but not seeing any of it. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, picking up his glasses from where he'd let them fall into his lap and putting them back on. He looked at the screen again, before ultimately deciding to take the results to Stella and let her either tell him he was an idiot for bringing her nothing or a genius for breaking the case.

He spotted the Greek woman talking to Mac. Barely concealing a wince at the square bandage on his boss' neck, Sheldon caught Stella's attention, waved the folder at her and made a show of dropping it on her desk. Stella nodded, before turning her attention back to the conversation. Sheldon walked off, eyes down, not noticing the eyes of both Stella and Mac on his back as he left.

Mac's hand came up to finger the bandage, "Hawkes doesn't look so good, Stella."

Stella nodded, green eyes clouding in sympathy, "I know, he's taking Flack's injury really hard… yours too," she added as Mac raised an eyebrow, "But it almost seems like he's taking Flack's personally, like he's blaming himself."

Mac shook his head, "He wasn't even there. There was nothing anyone could've done."

Stella nodded, raising an eyebrow knowingly, "I know, but you still blame yourself, right?"

Mac looked away, "Do me a favor, will you? Just… talk to Hawkes, make sure he's ok?"

Stella smiled, before turning to follow Sheldon back the way he'd come, "Sure, Mac… keep me informed, you know, about Don, the case, everything?"

Mac gave her a small, crooked smile in return, "Of course…"

Stella retraced Sheldon's footsteps, checking the AV sector, where he'd been, the DNA lab, where he should have been headed and all the labs in between. The Greek woman had just hung up her cell after phoning Sid to see if he was down in the morgue. She frowned. Where could he be? Then the answer hit her. Locker rooms. With purpose in her stride, Stella headed for the locker rooms, pushing open the door. Only to find them empty.

Stella scowled, and was about to head back out when she heard soft music coming from the shower room. Frown still marring her face, she moved back into the locker rooms, heading for the showers. She paused at the door, not hearing running water, just the music. A radio. A radio which was being shifted from station to station at an alarming rate.

'Can you be the one?  
Can you see the sun  
With me?'

Stella heard a low-throated noise of frustration that made her eyes widen. Was that Sheldon? She didn't have much time to ponder on that before the station shifted again in a burst of static.

'You stand in the line just to hit a new low  
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go,'

Stella eased her way around the door, glancing into the shower room. What she saw stunned her. Dr Sheldon Hawkes, calm, cool, collected Shel, sitting cross-legged in a shower stall growling at a water-proof bath radio? She took a few more hesitant steps towards him, but stopped as another burst of static erupted from the radio.

'I am a dreamer and when I wake,  
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.  
And as you move on, remember me,'

With a cry of frustration Sheldon slammed the radio down on the floor next to him. He brought one knee up to his chest and rested his head on it, large dark eyes peering over his kneecap. Stella stared at him. This was not a side of Sheldon she knew. She took another slow step towards him, starting as he spoke.

"I haven't gone mad, Stella. Trust me…"

The Greek woman's eyes were compassionate as she stood over him and held out a hand to help him up, "Well, honestly, Hawkes, you coulda fooled me…"

Sheldon allowed himself to be helped to his feet and lead over to the locker room benches. He sat in silence for a moment, his head bowed, unwilling to face Stella's scrutinizing gaze. A gentle touch on his shoulder, reminded him that even though she was willing to help him, Stella was still waiting for him to speak. He sighed and opened his mouth, but Stella beat him to the punch.

"What's going on, Sheldon?"

Stella almost recoiled at the hopeless desperation in Sheldon's eyes as he said, "I don't know anymore, Stella, I really don't…"

She squeezed his shoulder and said, "Why don't you start by explaining the deal with the radio?" she gestured to where the bath radio sat at Sheldon's feet.

Sheldon smirked mirthlessly, "Ask the tough ones, Stella…" at her raised eyebrow, he sighed, "Okay, okay… I've always been… odd… around music. My mom used to tell people I'd grow up to be a concert pianist one day, the way I'd sit and listen to her records for hours on end."

Stella looked a little confused, but smiled encouragingly, "What changed your mind?"

Sheldon's face split into the wide smile everyone knew and loved, "I couldn't play a note. I mean, I went beyond bad."

As Stella snorted with laughter, Sheldon continued, "But my mom still couldn't understand why I would sit there and listen so intently to the music for hours and hours when I couldn't play a note, and chances were, I was tone deaf anyway," his voice lowered and he looked away from Stella, eyes fixing on a spot just to the left of the Greek woman's shoes, "Thing was… I wasn't listening to the music… not really…"

This time Stella looked more than a little confused, "I don't understand, Shel…"

Sheldon sighed again, and eyed off the clock radio at his feet. Maybe it was because he was focusing on finding out things about Don. Maybe if he turned his focus somewhere else it might work. Reluctantly, he reached down and scooped up the bath radio again, holding it in his hands for a moment. Stella watched him, still confused. She watched as Sheldon flipped the dial on the edge of the radio and stared, transfixed at it.

'I love all of you  
Hurt by the cold,  
So hard and lonely too  
When you don't know yourself,'

Stella still looked at Sheldon in confusion, starting to get more than a little worried about her friend. This just was not like him at all. Sheldon seemed to pull himself out of his reverie, radio still playing softly, a triumphant smile on his face. He turned to Stella and spoke, as though he were repeating something heard from a distance.

'I dunno, Lindsay…'

'Come on, Stella, it's an innocent question…'

Sheldon gave a sigh and resumed what was obviously Stella's half of the conversation, 'Fine… if I had to answer one way or the other… I'd say… Hawkes…'

'Hawkes?'

'Yeah, he's a sweetie…' Sheldon's face broke into a grin as Stella stared open-mouthed at him.

"Want me to continue? There's still two minutes of song-time left…"

Stella blinked at him, "But, you… you were on a different scene… you were with Danny that day… in Manhattan… me and Lindsay were… in Brooklyn…"

Sheldon nodded, and Stella still blinked at him, "So… how… there's no way Lindsay coulda repeated an entire conversation back to you like that, you even got the inflections right…"

Sheldon shook his head, still looking at the Greek CSI, smiling hesitantly when Stella's eyes widened in understanding, "The music," she whispered, "You can hear it in the music…"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Heard It Through The Grapevine

Author: Hawkeye/Katy

Beta: Alex/Odysseus and Onigami/Lorne

Fandom: CSI:NY

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the socks I'm wearing. I stole those from my sister.

He nodded slowly, smile fading slightly as Stella's eyes widened even further, "It… it doesn't always work."

Stella sat in silence for a while, looking from the softly playing radio in Sheldon's hand, to the doctor himself. Sheldon kept his head down, not wanting to see the disbelief or recrimination in her eyes. As Stella sat and thought, things slowly became clearer for her. Sheldon's earlier behaviour in the lab, his guilt about Mac's injuries, his willingness to dig out the med-kit that had sat in his locker since 9/11.

Stella took his hand, squeezing it softly in sudden understanding, "The blast," she said sympathetically, "That's why you took it so personally…"

Sheldon nodded, face falling, "But I was too late. By the time I got to the lab, Mac and Don had already left. And by the time I knew it was a bomb, it was too late… Danny found me just as I was entering Don's cell number into the GPS tracker."

Keeping hold of his hand, Stella quirked an eyebrow at him, "Just Don's number?"

Sheldon flushed lightly, the blush barely staining his dark skin, "Well… I... it's…" he looked up into Stella's smiling eyes, "I'm busted, aren't I?"

Stella nodded, a smiled curling her lips, "Oh yeah… so spill… how long? When? What did it for you?"

Letting out a flustered squeak at the last question, Sheldon shook his head, blush intensifying, "Long enough… Before I became a CSI… And I plead the fifth…"

He was saved from saying anymore by Lindsay's voice from the doorway, "Hello? Stella? Hawkes?"

Getting to his feet, Sheldon offered a hand to Stella, smiling as the Greek woman accepted it graciously. He looked back over his shoulder at the bath radio, but carried on walking as Stella gripped his arm and shook her head gently. The two walked out of the locker rooms, giving Lindsay inquisitive looks as the brunette caught sight of them. She motioned them over.

"We're going down to the hospital. Thought you might want a ride?"

Stella shot a quick glance at Sheldon, still worried, but Sheldon ignored it in favor of smiling at Lindsay and nodding his thanks. Lindsay gave them both a quizzical look, but, thankfully for Sheldon, left it alone, instead heading out to the car. Mac and Danny were waiting for them, Mac fingering the bandage on his neck, the only sign of his unease, and Danny bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet, scowling at the delay.

The ride to the hospital was silent, the solemn walk up to the ward, equally so. The team settled themselves around the waiting room. Minutes ticked by, until a nurse finally came up to them, asking them rather irritably what they were all doing here. The flashing of five badges soon turned her irritation into something far nicer. She promised to keep them informed, to let them know if anything happened. More long minutes ticked by. One by one, all heads turned to Sheldon.

The doctor noticed their gazes, "What? Oh…" he picked himself up from the uncomfortable waiting room couch, straightened his jacket and took off his badge, handing it to Mac, who looked startled.

"Hawkes…?" Mac said, a question in his voice.

"Hmm?" Sheldon asked, fishing through his pockets, "Oh! No, I'm not quitting or anything. They just don't like it when I wear both badges."

The team blinked, before Mac spoke, "Both?"

Hawkes nodded, pulling a visiting doctor's pass out of his pocket, "They think it's a conflict of interests if I wear a NYPD badge as well as this one."

Mac nodded, curling his fingers around Sheldon's badge, as Sheldon clipped the hospital ID to his pocket, "Find out what you can."

Sheldon nodded back and disappeared into the depths of the hospital, dropping his CSI persona and taking up that of the doctor. One by one, the team drifted away, preferring to lose themselves in work, rather than pace the hospital floors. Only Stella and Mac remained.

He came back through the doors, slumping unceremoniously down onto the waiting room couch, "Don just came out of surgery. It's looking good. He's breathing on his own, which is incredible considering the amount of damage he sustained."

Both Stella and Mac breathed heavy sighs of relief, Mac staying quiet while Stella continued to ask questions, "Did they say anything else?"

"He has a CT scan tomorrow morning to test his brain activity," Sheldon spoke softly, but Mac still heard the hesitation in his voice.

"They're thinking brain damage?" he asked, schooling his face into a professional mask that both Sheldon and Stella saw right through.

"It's a precaution," Sheldon said, "My professional opinion? I don't think he was without oxygen in his blood stream long enough to cause any lasting damage."

"But…?" Mac gestured for him to continue.

He raised an eyebrow at the former Marine, "But it's better to be safe than sorry. You saved his life, Mac. Never forget that."

His next words were mumbled so low that Stella only just caught them, "God knows, I won't…"

Danny and Lindsay chose that moment to return, the tension of not knowing overriding the agony of waiting. Stella shot Sheldon a look filled with an almost fierce sympathy. Mac stayed quiet, eyes occasionally flicking over to where Don lay motionless in the hospital room. Danny and Lindsay took up spots in the waiting room, the entire team staying quiet, waiting for their final team-mate to come back to them. Finally, Sheldon couldn't take the silence anymore. He stood up, blinking in surprise as Stella did the same thing. He let Stella speak first.

"I'm going for coffee, who wants one?"

Murmurs of yes and no floated around, before questioning eyes turned to Sheldon, "I thought I'd head down and speak to Don's neurologist, see what he thinks about the CT scan," he carefully avoided Stella's eyes while saying this.

He maneuvered his way down through the halls of the hospital. This was his last shot. His last stand. If this attempt at hearing things through the music didn't work, he was willing to bet it could never be used as a useful tool again. Sheldon searched the hospital, looking for a radio, an IPod, a discman, anything… He finally stopped his search in the middle of the neurology ward.

Sheldon sighed, "This is insane," he mumbled to the empty corridor.

His eyes lit upon a previously untried door. He raised an eyebrow at it, moving forward and trying the handle. It was locked. He rattled the handle again. A frustrated sound was torn from him and he stepped back sweeping his hands through his close-cropped hair. Suddenly, everything stopped, everything Sheldon had just done; his manic search through a hospital, a place of healing, for a radio; came back to him. He shook his head slowly, disgusted with himself.

"Stella would kick my ass if she knew what I was doing," he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

He started walking slowly down the hall, head down, "Plus," he added, "I shouldn't be here… I should be in the one spot that I can actually be useful…"

Thoroughly ashamed of himself, Sheldon Hawkes straightened his shoulders, held his head high and walked back down to the one spot he felt useful. He turned and walked right back to Don's hospital room.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Heard It Through The Grapevine

Author: Hawkeye/Katy

Beta: Alex/Odysseus and Onigami/Lorne

Fandom: CSI:NY

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the socks I'm wearing. I stole those from my sister.

Don blinked blearily, wondering hazily why the world had suddenly gone fuzzy. He opened his mouth and sucked in a breath to ask why. Then he groaned as the deep breath somehow made seemingly every nerve ending in his body stand up and curse at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw a blurry shape move to stand beside him. He blinked some more, and the blurry shape morphed into Sheldon, making him smile despite the pain.

"Don?" Sheldon's voice came from very far away.

"Ow…" he mumbled, voice hoarse from both intubation and misuse.

"Hey…" Sheldon smiled, relief coloring his voice, "Should I get the nurse to come and up your pain meds?"

"Nah…" Don spoke carefully, trying not to force too much air into his lungs at once, "I'm good now. Just that first one, ya know?"

Sheldon nodded, "First step's a doozy, I know. Here…" he carefully spooned some ice-chips into the injured man's mouth and smiling at the look of near-bliss that crossed Don's face.

Neither man noticed Stella, leaning, arms folded, in the doorway. A small smile curled her lips as she watched the two men. Turning away, she stealthily crept down the hall a few doors away. Then, turning around, she walked back the way she came, heading for Don's room, deliberately making sure her shoes clicked loudly on the tiled floors. Reaching Don's doorway for the second time in less than a minute, Stella knocked gently on the frame.

"Hey… nurse told me you were awake…" she said, not hiding the relieved smile at seeing Don okay.

"Yeah…" Don said wryly, "I hurt too much to be asleep…"

Sheldon immediately stood up, "I can ask them to increase your IV dosage, Don…"

"Settle down, Shel… Geez… Jumpier than a squirrel on crack… 'm fine," Don watched as Sheldon sat down but still fidgeted nervously in the small hospital room, "Really…" he added, to make sure.

Stella looked at Sheldon, "Why don't you go grab some coffee or something, Shel? Maybe find out when we can bust Don outta here?"

Sheldon stared at the Greek woman uncomprehendingly for a moment. Stella raised an eyebrow at him, letting him know that she needed to talk to Don and his fidgetiness wasn't helping. Then he nodded slowly, still looking slightly dazed and walked out of the room. He tried not to listen in, he really did, but as he was walking away he couldn't help but slow his steps a little.

He heard Don's slightly slurred voice ask, "What's up with Shel?"

He heard Stella sigh in response before replying, "He blames himself, Don… So does Mac… We all do, in a way."

That was enough for Sheldon. He carried on walking, almost desperate, now, to be away from that conversation. He walked, almost scurrying, through the hospital, barely restraining from breaking into a jog when he caught sight of the automatic doors that would lead him to the outside world. Sheldon slid through the doors, slumping down on the low wall outside the hospital. He didn't know how long he stayed there. He just knew that he was still there when Stella came out and silently offered her hand, leading him back to the car and driving him home.

Two weeks and a serious bout of cabin fever later, Donald Flack Jr was convinced the world was against him. Well, the hospital anyway. And his co-workers. Especially Sheldon. They were all in cahoots with the nurse he had silently dubbed 'Mrs Hitler'. No, he couldn't go home today. No, he couldn't go for a walk. No, not even in a wheelchair. No, she wouldn't go get the doctor for him to talk to.

"Heil!" he mumbled, glaring at the nurse's station through the glass windows of his room.

His glare intensified as Sheldon walked up to the desk, smiling confidently at the nurses. Damn it! That man had them all eating out of his hand! Even Mrs Hitler! How did he do that?! His jaw dropped as Sheldon puppy-eyed the nurses. What the hell?! His jaw dropped further and his eyes narrowed as the nurses giggled and nodded, leaning in conspiratorially to Sheldon and whispering in his ear. Sheldon nodded back and grinned at the nurse, before walking the few steps up the hall to Don's room. He knocked on the door and stuck his head round the frame.

"Hey…" he started before noticing the filthy look on the detective's face, "What's wrong with you?"

"You're in on it too!" Don grumbled, making Sheldon raise an eyebrow, "Damn nurses are hell bent on keepin' me here!"

"And I'm in on it?" Sheldon clarified, biting back a smile.

"Yes," Don scowled petulantly, forcing Sheldon to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, "You and them Nazis out there."

"Oh…" Sheldon creased his brow in mock-hurt, "So… I just wangled your release… today… on the shift change… for nothing…? Oh… okay…"

Don's eyes brightened, "I'm gettin' outta here?"

Sheldon tried to look stern, but failed miserably in the face of Don's enthusiasm, "Yeah… we just have to wait a half hour for shift change. Then we can get going. On the condition that you have someone spend the first two days with you. To…"

"… keep an eye on me, I know…" Don was still grinning, "Tell you what, Doc, I'll shout pizza and Chinese for the next couple of days if ya stay with me and gimme a ride home."

Sheldon stoically fought the blush that was creeping up his neck, smiling back at Don, "Make it Thai and you've got yourself a deal."

Sheldon heard Don agree as he walked to the door and pulled the wheelchair from the hall into the room. He gripped the handles tightly, fighting yet another blush at the thought of living in Don's house for the next three days. He took a deep breath, calming himself and turning the wheelchair around to face the bed. He raised an eyebrow as Don made a face at it.

"I could just leave you here…" Sheldon said mildly.

Don looked up at him, "You wouldn't," he said confidently, "You're too nice."

Sheldon leaned over the wheelchair until he was almost nose-to-nose with him, "Try me…"

Don gulped, more because Sheldon was so close than because of any feelings of intimidation, "I'll get in the wheelchair…" he mumbled.

Sheldon nodded, setting the brakes and moving around the chair to help. With much cursing, swearing and muted groans of pain he managed to ease Don into the wheelchair without manhandling him too much. He walked over to the seat, picked up the detective's overnight bag and handed it to him. Don set it carefully in his lap. The two waited in silence for a moment, before Don broke it.

"Can we go yet?"

Sheldon stared at him in fond exasperation, "You know… its people like you that make me glad I became a coroner."

Don shot him a mock-pout, "What?"

Sheldon shook his head, glancing up at the nurse's station once more, "Okay, now we can go."

Carefully easing Don's wheelchair out of the room, making sure he didn't bump the detective in any way, Sheldon walked up to the nurse's station. He smiled politely at the swing shift nurse, his smile faltering slightly as the nurse just glared back. She looked pointedly down at Don, who also favored her with his best polite smile.

Sheldon gave the nurse his best charming doctor smile, "I can take it from here if you give me the paperwork."

The nurse gave him a frown, which made Don smirk. Sheldon inwardly sighed, but, outwardly, his charming doctor smile remained firmly in place. Keeping one hand on the back of Don's wheelchair, Sheldon handed the nurse his visiting doctor pass. The nurse's expression changed instantly.

"Oh! Doctor Hawkes, I'm terribly sorry. I'll fetch that paperwork for you right away."

Don tilted his head back, looking up at Sheldon with a disbelieving look on his face, "How did you pull that off? I've flashed my badge in here so many times I've lost count and they do is nod and smile!"

Sheldon grinned and dangled his visiting doctor pass in front of Don's eyes, "Yeah, but here it's not the brass pass they want to see."

Don snorted, staying quiet as the nurse hurried back with Sheldon's paperwork. The dark-skinned man signed it, murmuring questions about physical therapy and wound care. Don quirked a smile as he realized that Shel was asking for his benefit, asking the questions he couldn't find it in himself to ask, not yet. With a final smile for the nurse, Sheldon handed over the paperwork and grabbed the handles of Don's wheelchair.

"Shall we…?" he asked mildly.

"Let's get the hell outta here!" Don spoke vehemently, clutching his overnight bag a little tighter.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Heard It Through The Grapevine

Author: Hawkeye/Katy

Beta: Alex/Odysseus and Onigami/Lorne

Fandom: CSI:NY

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the socks I'm wearing. I stole those from my sister.

Don watched as Sheldon moved around his apartment, unpacking his bag, putting away the cards, flowers and chocolates he'd gotten during his stay in the hospital, and finally, much to Don's surprise, four bags of groceries that he hadn't even noticed. He had, however, noticed Sheldon himself. The normally calm, centered man could not stop fidgeting. He was nervous, Don concluded. But… about what?

"Shel?" he asked, from his 'supervisory' position on the couch.

His eyebrows flew up into his hairline as Sheldon started; nearly dropping the carton of orange juice he was holding. He tried to get up, then thought better of it as his abused torso protested even the smallest movement. He lay back on the couch, looking up at the other man intently.

"Shel?" he asked again, this time with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Sorry," Sheldon gave a smile that even Don could see was forced, "You startled me, that's all…"

Don gave him his best interrogation look, "It's not all, though, is it?"

Sheldon looked at Don, then looked away, almost flinching at the look in the detective's intense blue eyes. He kept his head down, staying silent and still for a moment. Then, when Don thought he wasn't going to get any kind of answer, Sheldon slowly shook his head.

"So what is it, Shel? Ya know you can talk to me, right?" Don said, still trying to look the other man in the eyes.

Sheldon stayed quiet, not wanting to say anything, but wanting to say everything at the same time. He kept his head down. Don sighed, wishing for at least the hundredth time since he got home that he could move more than a couple of inches without hurting. He wanted to reach over and put his arm around the dark-skinned man's shoulder, turn his head to face him and demand to know what was going on. But he knew that would more than likely land him back in the hospital. So he settled for nudging Sheldon with his foot.

"Come on, Shel…" he spoke softly, still craning his neck to try and see Sheldon's face.

When he didn't get an answer, Don sighed again and changed tactics, "Stella told me, ya know… about the thing with the music…"

Sheldon's head snapped up, "She what?!" he made a move to get up, more skittish now than ever before.

"Hey! Hey, easy, go easy…" Don soothed him as best he could, poking him again with his toe, wishing he could do more.

Sheldon shook his head again, finally turning his eyes up to meet Don's, "You don't understand… it was my fault!"

"What, Shel?" another nudge with his foot, "What was your fault?" Don tentatively tried reaching a hand out to him, but hissed in pain as his injuries burned.

"That!" Sheldon exclaimed, pointing to where Don was now holding his ribs gingerly.

Don frowned, uncurling his hands from his abused ribs, "How? How is this, your fault? It ain't your fault, Shel…"

Sheldon looked at him, self-recrimination and doubt in his eyes, "It is. I didn't get to you in time. Something was going to happen that day. I knew it. And it didn't get there in time," his head turned away and he slumped back down on the couch, carefully, to avoid causing Don any pain, even in his misery, careful of Don and his injuries.

Another nudge with Don's foot didn't make Sheldon look at him. However, a sharp kick in the stomach, did. As the doctor let out a pained grunt, turning to glare at the homicide detective, Don scowled at him, reaching out a hand, ignoring the burn in his side. Sheldon now had two choices, reach over and take Don's hand, letting the detective sit back on the couch, or don't take his hand and watch him do more injury to himself. His gentle nature won out. Sheldon reached over reluctantly and took hold of Don's hand, allowing himself to be pulled towards the other man as Don sank back against the couch cushions.

Not letting go of Sheldon's hand, Don gave it a gentle squeeze, "Hey, hey… Now you listen and listen good. Not one damn bit of this is your fault. Mac blamed himself too, but it ain't his fault either," he squeezed Sheldon's hand again, tugging until the doctor turned his face back to him, "It ain't nobody's fault 'cept the crazy son-of-a-bitch who set that bomb, ya hear?"

He waited for Sheldon's reluctant nod before he would release his hand. He knew the doctor didn't believe him. He also knew that something more than the blast was bothering Shel. Don rested himself back against the pillows, looking at the doctor. He frowned sympathetically, intense blue eyes never leaving Sheldon's downcast face.

"Shel?" Don asked softly, hooking a foot around the other man's knee to stop him shying away.

There was no answer from the dark-skinned man, so Don tried again, "Shel, what's bothering you? It's not the blast… well… not just the blast…"

Sheldon's head turned to him, slowly, eyes still downcast, "No… it's not just the blast. The blast just made it worse."

Softly, as though he were talking to a frightened animal, Don spoke, "Made what worse, Shel?"

"I nearly lost you… I heard it twice… heard you nearly die, twice…" Sheldon shook his head, "And I'm still not making any sense."

But despite the pain medication that had fuzzed up Don Flack's head, despite the doctor's confusing words, things slowly began to fall into place in Flack's mind. Sheldon had only gone looking for his, Don's, mobile number in the GPS tracker. Sheldon had, according to Danny, brought out his EMT kit; which hadn't seen the light of day since 9/11. Sheldon had, according to Stella, been all but having a panic attack when he realized that he couldn't use his other abilities to help with the blast case, Don's injuries. It all came back to him, Don belatedly realized. Every bit of Sheldon's pain and insecurity since that day had come back to… him… to Don Flack.

"It's makin' more sense than ya think, Shel…" Don said this last quietly, his eyes still locked onto Sheldon.

He locked his foot more firmly around Sheldon's knee and hurried on, "Shel… Shel… it's ok… it's ok…" he said as the doctor's eyes widened and he tried to stand up, "Shel, hey, hey…" he reached his hand out, wincing as his ribs pulled again, "Sheldon…"

The use of his full name made Sheldon pause, giving Don time to continue, "Sheldon… Shel… it's ok… hell, it's more than ok," the lanky homicide detective blushed slightly before continuing, "It's actually the best news I've heard since the blast."

Sheldon stared at Don like the proverbial stunned mullet, "Best…?" he managed to force out.

Don nodded, looking up at him, "Best news ever…" he reached out a hand towards him again, "Come on, Shel, little leeway for the cripple, here."

Sheldon smiled softly, taking Don's hand and allowing himself to be pulled towards the other man. Without letting go of Don's hand, Sheldon shifted slightly, easing himself so he rested above the other man, his weight on his hips and arm. He looked down at Don, marveling at the look in his eyes. Then, careful not to hurt the injured man, Sheldon leaned down and chastely pressed his lips to Don's, smiling into the kiss as the other man sighed happily.

He pulled back, still leaning on his arm and hips, grinning as Don slowly opened his eyes and said, "So… still lookin' for that Thai, doc?"

Sheldon eased himself back so he was still sitting comfortably next to Don, "Well, yeah… why do you think I came home with you?" he grinned good-naturedly as the homicide detective gave him a mock-pout.

He stood up carefully, making sure he didn't bump Don in the process. Making his way over to the phone he ordered what Don thought was enough food to feed an army. Then he sat back down, resting a hand on the other man's thigh. He waited until the food arrived, eating and watching the other man. He watched as Don's eyelids drooped, head nodding. He poked him gently.

"Don… Don, come on… I'll save you some food… pain pills, then bed, I think…" Sheldon eased his arm around Don's back, helping him up.

The two made their way slowly down to the bedroom, Sheldon easing the injured man down onto the bed. Don's face was already pinched with pain even from that short walk. Sheldon sighed, reaching out and tipping two pain pills into Don's hand. Don pulled a face but obediently popped them into his mouth, accepting the glass of water Sheldon held out with a wan smile. Sheldon lay down next to him, facing the other man and stayed there, one hand resting on Don's uninjured hip. He moved his hand in slow, soothing circles, watching as the pain pills took effect and Don's eyes slowly closed, his breathing evened out and he began to snore lightly.

Sheldon had had every intention of getting up straight afterwards, but as Don's breathing evened out and he slowly relaxed, so too did Sheldon, the doctor's eyes slipping closed and following the detective's into sleep. He blinked his eyes open the next morning, glancing over at Don's still-sleeping face. He smiled, noting how peaceful and boyish the detective looked in sleep. He watched the other man for a while, before carefully easing his way out of the bed.

Quietly, he made his way down to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and eyed off its contents. Don couldn't exactly eat leftover Thai for breakfast. He debated for a minute, before finally pulling out the carton of eggs. Scrambled eggs was something he could do without causing the next natural disaster to hit New York. He nosed around Don's kitchen, opening and closing drawers until he found everything he was looking for. Then, brandishing a wooden spoon he began the task of making breakfast.

As he snooped around the kitchen trying to find Don's coffee, Sheldon was struck by the silence. He normally had music playing in his apartment, not just for the obvious reason of wanting to hear what the day had in store for him. Sheldon frowned, glancing around the kitchen until his eyes settled on an old radio, nestled between, ironically, the coffee and the coffee pot. Grabbing the coffee with one hand, Sheldon flicked on the radio, then grabbed the coffee pot and pulled it towards him, humming along to the song that floated out from the speakers.

'It's been a hard day's night, and I'd been working like a dog,  
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log,  
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do  
Will make me feel alright.

So why on earth should I moan, coz when I get you alone  
You know I feel OK.'

Curiosity won out and Sheldon closed his eyes, letting the music flow over him and through him. He listened carefully, holding his breath in anticipation, waiting, listening, hoping. He let out his breath in a sigh, not hearing anything in the song. He turned back to the stove, reaching for the wooden spoon again. Then he froze.

Intermixed with the melody, a breathy moan met his ears, 'Damn, Don…'

His eyes widened almost comically, the wooden spoon falling from nerveless fingers, 'God… Shel…' was followed by a sigh that hitched halfway through.

Sheldon reached out a hand he refused to admit was trembling and switched off the radio. Taking a deep, calming breath, he bent down and retrieved the wooden spoon, rinsing it off in the sink. He smiled to himself, eyeing the radio over his shoulder. Some things were better if you didn't see them coming…


End file.
